


a golden hand

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: Joffrey is dead and Sansa is being smuggled away from King's Landing by someone she never would have guessed would want to keep her safe, but he did make a promise...





	a golden hand

“Come with me,” Ser Dontos murmured, much more soberly than she would have given him credit for not a moment ago, quickly slipping between the bushes away from the wedding reception, the frenzied shouting, Queen Cersei’s piercing shrieks for somebody to help her son.

Sansa’s heart was beating rapidly, she could feel it in her throat, cutting off her air supply as she gathered her skirts and darted behind the drunkard, down alleyways and passages in the empty streets.

It was dusk, and a mist of sorts had swirled into the streets of King’s Landing as they made their way down to the port. She didn’t dare ask where they were going, didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if they were being followed.

Joffrey was dead.

Perhaps the relief would come later, she thought, once the panic had died down, if it ever died down. Perhaps she would later be able to cherish that her tormentor would be buried soon.

All Sansa could think of right now was of keeping up with the short man in front of her, who was huffing and puffing, urging her along, face red - of not tripping, of not falling, of not thinking too hard of what she was doing and how she would certainly be beheaded for treason if she was found.

They didn’t go to the docks, but down between some rocks, hidden away from the bay, where they got into a rowboat and Ser Dontos sunk two oars into the calm water as she hopped on, hiding her face with the soft cloth, breath bated, as they began to leave King’s Landing behind, soft splashes the only sound she could hear now that they’d left the queen’s screaming behind.

The mist cleared away to reveal a boat floating far enough from the shore that nobody would have seen it from there, and Sansa stood up. “Are you not coming with me?” she turned to ask the man, who was merely steadying the rope ladder that hung on the side.

“No, no, this is where my job ends,” he muttered to her, motioning upwards. “Go on, milady. We need to hurry.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, even though she had no idea what awaited her on the boat, or who Ser Dontos was working for, hands scraping against the rough rope as she heaved herself up and up and up onto the edge. Her foot caught on the rope and for a split-second she thought she’d fall, backwards, onto the rowboat, into the dark water, and she reached out blindly to grip onto something, and then somebody was holding her, and her hand clasped around something cold and hard.

It took her a moment to register that she wasn’t falling, and instead was being tugged into the boat, landing on unsteady feet and looking down to find her fingers curled around a bright solid gold hand.

Her heart dropped.

Jaime Lannister lowered his good hand from her waist. “Are you alright?” he asked her, voice quiet, somber, eyes flicking over her rapidly until she managed a quick nod, and he nodded in return.

“Ser Dontos,” he called down, and Sansa heard the unmistakeable sound of coins clinking together as he tossed something down to him. “Leave now. Tell nobody.”

There were men moving around the boat, handling ropes as they prepared to set sail and Sansa stood there, arms wrapped around herself and staring at the man next to her.

He turned to look at her, then, briefly, then moved back to where a blanket lay on top of some boxes, grabbing it and trying to place it over her shoulders awkwardly with one hand; she held onto it, burying herself into its warmth, still unsure of her circumstances. “We’ll need to be far away, and fast. They’ll be calling for your head by now,” he told her in a clipped voice.

 _Where are we going?_ she wanted to ask. _Why are you helping me? Who are you working with? Or for?_ Instead, what came out was… “You knew… about Joffrey.”

The shadow that passed over the man’s eyes, then, was something that Sansa had never seen before. Something like thinly veiled guilt over misery. And yet, nothing close to remorse. He glanced back towards the shore - the boat was already moving.

“There was nothing I could have done to save him.”

Sansa didn’t respond, lips trembling a little, from the shock or the cold, she didn’t know. Jaime turned to her again, watching her for a moment as if reassuring himself of something. “But I could save you.”

“Me?” Her voice sounded far away.

The least likely person she could have ever imagined would be concerned about her safety walked towards the cabin, opening the door and turning to hold his golden hand to her again.

And smiled. A bitter smile, full of self-hatred and emptiness, but a smile nonetheless. “I made a promise to your mother.”

So she took it; Sansa held onto the Lannister gold and helped herself down the stairs into the warmth of the cabin wondering how a carved piece of metal could make her feel so secure.


End file.
